On Temporary Terms

by Janice Maynard

  He tapped her chin. “Is it dark in there, lass?”

  She nodded her head slowly.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  Her silence lasted eons, it seemed. He’d given her multiple orgasms. His own erection ached like the devil, but he was not anywhere close to being done with Abby Hartmann. He waited impatiently for her answer.

  “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to stop.”

  “Good girl.” The words were gruff with arousal and pleasure and a rush of affection for this woman who had given him so much in such a short time. “You won’t regret your answer, I swear.”

  Nine

  Abby had unwittingly unleashed a monster. Duncan Stewart was the most sexually uninhibited man she had ever encountered. When she said as much, he scoffed. “It’s not me, lass, it’s you. I’ve been corrupted by a wicked American siren.”

  Since she was momentarily blind, she couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the smirk in his voice. It was when he got quiet that she really worried.

  For several long moments, she was aware that he had left the bedroom again. But this time, he hadn’t gone far. She could hear water running and the sound of drawers opening and closing in the bathroom.

  At last, she felt the mattress give as he joined her. Without realizing she was doing it, she jerked at her bonds. Duncan only laughed, damn his hide. “Patience, my little Venus. I won’t make you wait much longer.”

  Abby wasn’t sure what she had expected him to do next. After all, there were only a finite number of ways a man and a woman could make love...right?

  And even a Scotsman descended from a long line of occasionally barbaric Highlanders would be completely civilized now. Even so, her skin was covered in gooseflesh, and her heart pounded so hard in her chest she could barely breathe. The waiting was excruciating.

  Duncan smoothed her hair, toying with the shell of her ear. “Why are you so tense, sweet Abby?”

  “You know why,” she said tartly. “You’re tormenting me deliberately.”

  “Shall I stop?”

  His question was bland. Conversational in tone.

  She ground her jaw. Despite the recent orgasms, her body was wound so tightly she craved his touch like a drug. “Just do it,” she said desperately. “Do whatever it is you’re going to do.”

  When he touched her hip bone, she jerked and cried out.

  Duncan murmured something she didn’t quite catch. “Poor Abby. You’re imagining the worst, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe that’s because I don’t really know you at all.” It was a fact. That one inescapable truth should have bothered her more than it did.

  He laughed softly. “You know me well enough, I’d say. As well as I know you. We see something in each other, lass. Maybe something that no one else sees. And we’re curious.”

  She licked her dry lips. He wasn’t wrong. “I trust you for some odd reason. And I don’t know why.”

  “Mystical connections defy explanation. We Scots don’t have a problem with that. Life offers rare gifts sometimes, even when we least expect them.”

  He ran a finger from her chin, down her throat, between her breasts and all the way to her navel where he played lazily. “I want to devour you, Abby. It gives me pause, to be sure. I’ve no’ been quite so consumed with lust since I was teenager.”

  The words poured over her like fire that heated from the inside out. She wanted to hold him and cling to him and force him to take her, but she had committed to playing this game, so she took a deep breath and braced for what was to come. “I’m all yours,” she whispered.

  There was silence for a moment. Perhaps her honesty stunned him. He whispered a phrase in Gaelic again. She really needed to learn a few of those words. And then he touched her breast.

  She had expected something. She didn’t know what. But this wasn’t it. Earlier, he had used his teeth on the sensitive tips of her breasts to bring her to the brink of release.

  This seduction was different. She felt his fingers massaging her nipples. But there was an added sensation... “Duncan?”

  “Relax, lass. It’s only honey. Nothing so terrible.” He moved to the other breast. “I told you. Sometimes a man likes dessert first. I saw a hummingbird when we were up on the mountain. That made me think of nectar and that made me think of you. Yield to me, sweet Abby, while I enjoy my treat.”

  She lost herself. There was no other way to describe what happened next. Time and place drifted away until her world was filled with Duncan and only Duncan. He suckled at her breasts, groaning and shuddering as if he were the one being tortured, and not the other way around. The feel of his rough, insistent tongue on her aching flesh made her writhe and cry out his name again and again.

  The act of helpless surrender fed her need for him to a frightening degree. She couldn’t see. She could barely move. All she could do was arch and twist and lift toward him as his hot breath cooled her damp skin and he savored her honey-tipped breasts.

  When she could find her voice, she pleaded. “I want to touch you, Duncan. Please. No more games.”

  He stopped instantly. Fumbling and cursing, he worked to free her hands. In her struggles, the slick fabric knots had tightened. It took him long, frustrating moments. Almost as an afterthought it seemed, he tugged the robe away from her face.

  Their eyes met. Duncan was flushed, his expression both exultant and wary...as if he expected her to berate him.

  She rotated her wrists, feeling the painful rush of blood returning fully to her chilled fingers. Lifting her aching arms, she took his face in her hands, staring deeply into his beautiful eyes. “You are a wicked, wicked man,” she whispered, her throat tight with emotions that were new and terrifying. “At the risk of feeding your already considerable ego, I have to tell you I’m very, very glad you came to my office that first day. I consider you mine now. As long as your feet are on American soil.”

  His lips quirked in a half smile. “The bargain goes both ways, lass. You’ll warm my bed and no other.”

  She kissed him softly, drunk with wonder that such a man had fallen into her lap. “Do we need legal paperwork?” she teased.

  “No. I dinna think so. We’ve honesty between us, and that’s all that matters.”

  She hesitated. He knew everything about her that was important. “I agree.”

  What had begun as fury and urgency and grappling for position out on the mountain now shifted seamlessly to something far sweeter and infinitely more alluring. Duncan left the bed only a moment to take care of protection and then he was back.

  He kissed the side of her neck. “I can’t wait any longer, Abby. I’ll go mad if I don’t have you now.”

  “I can’t have that on my conscience.” She didn’t want Duncan to see her insecurity, so she let him take the lead. Though she had been bold in claiming him verbally, the mechanics of sexual variation were less familiar to her.

  Duncan had no such handicap. Though she didn’t want to think about the other women who might have shared encounters with him, it was definitely to her benefit that he had enough experience for both of them.

  Oddly, Duncan appeared to have exhausted his need for kink, as it were. He moved between her legs, spread them wide with his powerful hips and used his hand to guide the head of his erection to her ready sex. With one firm thrust, he lodged deep. With a second, he went all the way.

  “Look at me, lass. Don’t close your eyes,” he said.

  The intimacy was painful. Her gaze clung to his. She was mute. Fearful he would realize how fast she was falling, how far, how irreversibly plunged into infatuation. Not love. Love came with time.

  His jaw clenched. His brow was damp. “Ye’re a wonder, Abby Hartmann. A wee, magical sprite of a woman.” He flexed his hips. “Hold on, lass. I’ve waited too long.”

  He cursed in Gaelic and moved
in her wildly, filling her, pummeling her, claiming her. It was insanity and exhilaration and at the end, another shattering climax. His release came fast on the heels of hers.

  Collapsing on top of her, he gave her his full weight, pinning her to the bed in a deeply blissful capture.

  Abby didn’t mind.

  “I canna feel my legs,” he said. “Is that normal, do you think?”

  She smiled, stroking his hair lazily. “I think we passed normal several stops back. Don’t worry, Duncan. I’m here for you. Take as long as you need.”

  * * *

  Duncan felt exhaustion roll over him like a seductive tide. He couldn’t succumb. There was too much to do. Soon enough, he would have time to devote to Abby. But not until a grandson discharged his duty.

  He recognized the danger in his current situation. Being with Abby anesthetized him, helped him to forget for a few sweet moments the weight of grief and obligation. He rolled to his side. “I suppose we should eat something.”

  She ran a hand lazily down his back, threatening to rekindle his interest. “Yes....” Her stomach growled on cue.

  Their shared laughter was enough to propel them out of the bed. Duncan caught her close as she walked by him to go to her room. “Wear one of my shirts,” he said. “I want you naked underneath.” He rummaged in the closet and handed her one. The solid navy cotton was a perfect foil for her vibrant hair.

  Abby took the shirt with a raised eyebrow. “Do I have permission to go to my own bathroom, sir?” She gave him a mock salute.

  “You’re a brat. And yes. But only because if I get you in my shower again, we’ll be in trouble.”

  “Smart man.”

  He cleaned up and put on old jeans and a flannel shirt. Leaving his feet bare, he prowled the hall until she joined him. “Did you follow the rules?” he asked. The shirttail hit her just above her knees. He caught her close and ran his hands over her bottom. “Good girl.”

  “I’m gonna get cold.”

  “I’ll turn up the heat.”

  They made their way to the kitchen, holding hands. Abby’s friend and her mother had cooked so much food that Duncan and Abby were able to eat a second meal and still have some left over.

  He devoured his portions. “I’ve always heard about the cuisine in the American South. Clearly, the stories are true. This is amazing.”

  “Not everyone is a great cook, though. I’m decent, but not in Lara’s league. I’ve learned a few tricks over the years.”

  “Maybe you could show me a few of those tricks later,” he said, stealing a kiss flavored with cinnamon and apples.

  “I was talking about food, not sex.”

  “We could improvise.”

  Suddenly, Abby blushed from her toes to her hairline, obviously remembering his honey assault. “Stop,” she said, her expression mortified. “I can’t talk about this at the dinner table.”

  He manufactured an innocent expression. “Shall we go back to bed then?”

  “Duncan Stewart. Behave. We have to be sensible.”

  She was right. He knew it. But he didn’t have to like it. “Fine,” he said. He stood with a sigh and began putting things away. “But you’re no fun.”

  When the kitchen was back to rights, she grimaced and touched his shoulder. “At the risk of spoiling your mood, I need to go to my house and get something to wear for the funeral. Lara did a great job packing, but she wouldn’t have known what to bring for something like that. I could borrow your car if you don’t mind. I won’t be gone long.”

  The notion of her leaving him alone in this huge house put lead in his stomach. “What if I go with you? Is that okay? I’d like to see where you live.”

  Abby shrugged. “Of course it’s okay. I thought you might have things to do here.”

  “I need to clear my head. A drive will be nice.”

  Unfortunately for Duncan, the current plan meant that Abby actually had to get dressed. He much preferred keeping her locked away in his castle on the hill.

  The drive into town was a familiar one now. Passing the building where Stewart Properties was housed gave him mixed emotions. Guilt. Pride. Consternation. He needed to sell the company in such a way that people wouldn’t lose their jobs. Was that even possible?

  When he pulled up in front of Abby’s neat frame bungalow, he smiled. “I’ve decided this house looks like you. It’s perfect.”

  “You wouldn’t say that when the roof leaks every third time it rains and the wiring is sputtering on its last legs.”

  They walked up the front path side by side. “So you’re reminding me that an old house takes lots of repairs. I live in the Scottish Highlands, lass. Everything is old, give or take.”

  “True.” She laughed, unlocking the front door. “But I’m also telling you that repairs are expensive. I have to budget and prioritize them. It’s an ongoing process.”

  She waved him toward the small living room. “Make yourself at home. I won’t be long.”

  He caught her close and kissed the top of her head. “I was serious about going to Asheville tomorrow night. When the funeral is done. Will you come with me?”

  “Don’t we need to get started on cleaning out your grandmother’s house? It’s a huge job, Duncan. Even if you call in professionals.”

  “I understand that. I do. Which is why we’ll take a break first...catch our breath after the funeral. I need a buffer between tomorrow and everything else that’s to come. Will you go with me? Please?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “Bring something fancy to wear. A long dress. Make it colorful, not gloomy. Granny would want me to honor her by living life to the fullest. We’ll have a glass of champagne in her memory.”

  Abby wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. “I think that’s a lovely idea. Give me twenty minutes. I’ll grab what I need, and we can head back.”

  When she disappeared down the hallway, he snooped unashamedly. Her house was small and cozy. Hardwood floors gleamed. The pleasant scent of lemon furniture polish lingered in the air. The furniture was stylish and functional, but not expensive. Oddly, there were no framed pictures anywhere. Most people had family photos on display.

  Abby’s neat-as-a-pin house was warm—not impersonal—but it also revealed very little about her life. The most information he was able to glean about her in the short time he was alone to investigate was that she liked romantic suspense novels, and she had saved a number of her textbooks from law school.

  He was perusing those titles when Abby returned, carrying a long garment bag.

  “I’m done,” she said.

  “Your house is charming, lass.”

  “Thank you. Signing the mortgage for this property was one of the proudest days of my life. I worked hard to get to a place where I could support myself.”

  “You take your independence very seriously.”

  She cocked her head. “Is that a criticism?”

  He returned a book to its assigned spot and shook his head. “Not at all. You must have matured early. I don’t think I had your drive when I was in school.”

  His praise seemed to make her uncomfortable. “Sometimes circumstances don’t give a person much wiggle room.”

  He wanted to question that odd statement, but Abby glanced out the front window and muttered an imprecation, one that seemed completely unlike her. “Come into the kitchen. Hurry.”

  “What’s wrong?” He followed her immediately, but he couldn’t fathom her mood.

  Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Abby paled, her expression haunted. “I’m not going to answer that. He’ll go away.”

  “He who?” Duncan frowned. “Is someone bothering you?” His mind jumped immediately to jilted suitors and scary stalker clients.

  “No. Nothing like that.” She peeked around the corner cautiously. “It’s my fath
er. We don’t get along.”

  Duncan’s stomach tightened. Abby’s entire demeanor had changed. Instead of the playful, confident woman he had come to know, now she was visibly tense and upset. “I’d be happy to go out there and tell him to go the hell away if you want me to...”

  Her eyes rounded in horror. “Absolutely not. All we have to do is wait a minute. He’ll give up and leave.”

  “Your car is parked out front,” Duncan said, stating the obvious.

  Abby winced. Clearly, she had forgotten that detail. “I often go out with friends. Someone might have picked me up. He’ll take the hint.”

  Ten

  Abby wanted to cry. Maybe Lara was right. Maybe a restraining order was the only way to keep her father at bay.

  Everyone in Candlewick knew her family history. It wasn’t something she could run away from. But no way in hell did she want Duncan to cross paths with the man who had made her life a misery.

  Duncan’s family might not be perfect, but they were not criminals. Abby’s father knew nothing about honor and self-reliance. He had spent so much of his life dodging the law and juggling the consequences of his many slick schemes, he was an embarrassment to her.

  She took one last furtive glimpse and was rewarded with a view of her father’s dilapidated car driving away down the street. Thank God.

  Managing a cheerful smile, though it felt like a clown mask stretching her face, she turned to Duncan, not quite able to meet his eyes. He had chosen one of her kitchen chairs and was seated, leaning the chair back on two legs. “We can go now,” she said.

  He took one of her hands in his. His male fingers were warm and strong. Hers were icy, trembling. Duncan brushed a hair from her cheek. “I don’t like to see you like this, Abby. You’re doing so much for me that I want to return the favor. Will you talk to me about him?”

  Her stomach hurt. “There’s nothing to tell...and nothing you or anybody can do. I hope the two of you never meet. It’s for the best. You have to believe me on this one.”